Book Sniffin'

Courtesy of Creative Commons

I remember sitting in the back of my Spanish literature class and stealthily smelling the book I had just check out of the library. Not stealthily enough, the cute guy next to me asked, "Did you just smell your book?" That potential relationship went out the window. Yet I stayed content with La Celestina in my hand.

There is something enchanting about walking through endless rows of books, running your fingers across the spines, and stopping every once in awhile to judge one by its cover. Name, color, print, and the wear-n-tear are all factors in the judging process. Many say it is a superficial way, but when you add smell into the mix these factors take on a new dimension. The book is an experience; smell as another sense contributes to the experience.

I dream about having a study in my house with tons of pretty books to scan through. Sounds like a luxury to come home from work, not to find eyes peering at you but spines for you to examine instead. I find a bookshelf relaxes me, rejuvenates me, and also excites me with the endless options. I am known to be an indecisive person because I see the possibility in everything. A bookshelf is a good visual of that, with every book having something unique to offer to the big picture.

Yummy, books. 

Dogs, they're just like us

Snickers, the Curious

The other day I was walking my friend's beautiful golden retriever of a dog named Snickers. As she paused to smell bushes and stare down squirrels I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking and why.

Ten minutes later, I found myself smelling a rose at my nose level. A few seconds later, I heard a loud inhuman squeak above me. Lo and behold, a squirrel on the branch was staring down at Snickers and me. All three of us had a moment of recognizing each other as different animals and then moving on.

Maybe I am more like a dog than I know. Now it is confirmed. We are curious beings. 

Hidden Villa's Highs & Lows

Hidden Villa Farm, with hills in the background

Tucked away in the Silicon Valley, an organic farm caught my attention when visiting my good friend Jenny in her hometown of Los Altos. Hidden Villa has a great program set-up for educating young students about nature. More significant for me, they have a beautiful trail I was able to engage on as Jenny worked for the day. Past the crops of cherry tomatoes, apples, and kale, then past the goats, sheep, and cow, the forrest entrance lies. Ascending the trail, with several switchbacks and some thick canopy of trees, you would think you were climbing Mount Whitney at some moments. Nothing gets me more excited about God than nature. So to see the light filtering through the trees at the start of the trail, and then to look down at the view from the top of trees and the bay in the distance- was marvelous. Needless to say, not only did the kids enjoy themselves that day. Just before leaving, we hit the start of the first rain. Jenny and I speedily got out of there on our bikes to beat the storm.

Hometown Perks

Have you ever revisited a place of your childhood and become overtaken with nostalgia? Visiting my high school, yet without the corsage and cute date. The young girls lacing up for soccer practice, yet I'm just a passerby this time. Or the playground in the park where we had family birthdays, but where are all my relatives? One morning this week, I revisited Craig Park for the first time in some years. Walking around the lake, I was inundated with memories. Memories of Girl Scout camp songs, trail mix, and touching the sky on the swings. This time there was no camp leader to be seen and my oversized legs scuffed the playground tar underneath me. And there was no bringing it back. I'm no Benjamin Button.

Yet in the quiet morning, I took a seat on a bench by the lake and created a new memory. Birds squawked and gathered for a morning dip. The willow tree branches teasingly lingered over the lake, just out of reach. In the distant skyline, garbage trucks came to and from the dump on the golden hillside (a comical view from the park, I might add). The birds, branches, and trucks have been doing that all of my life, but I had other preoccupations as a child to notice them. I wonder what else I have to step back and take a second glance at. Or what novel I need to read again.

Speaking of novels, I just saw the novel-turned-movie Perks of Being a Wallflower. In English-speaking settings, I am usually not the wallflower. It is refreshing to be back on Morning Glory Street and take some time to be a Brea wallflower. 

Parcher's Fishing Resort

What better way to celebrate the end of summer and beginning of fall than going to the mountains, where the trees are showing off their distinguishing deciduous or evergreen characteristics. This past weekend, I celebrated in no better place than Parcher's Fishing Resort in the Eastern Sierras. Visiting my older brother at his new gig, my family and I saw the newly-acclaimed mountain man in action at the South Lake dock. The aspen trees were also putting on a show for their visitors. Torn from cell-phone service, congested highways, and loud billboards, the aspens' audience was able to appreciate all they had to offer. Accenting their lush evergreen neighbors, the aspens boldly changed colors to a brilliant yellow, transforming the hillside into a type of fantastical golden river. Honestly, these trees make music and dance with the wind. Every coin-sized leaf catches a gust and flails into a full energetic flap, in unison with their sister leaves. Torn from cell-phone service, congested highways, and loud billboards, the aspens' audience was able to appreciate all they had to offer.

On a more stinky note, I hadn't given much credit to the sport of fishing before this past weekend. Though I still don't quite understand the purpose of spending all the time and effort to throw the fish back into the water, I have come closer. Just as I love the time spent in reflection on airplanes and trains, sitting in a boat must have a similar appeal. Both the traveler and fisher are moving toward something, yet they are given the freedom to patiently wait and think their own thoughts. Or perhaps they spend it with a good friend and can "shoot the shit", as Catcher in the Rye's Holden Caulfield would say. We don't get that opportunity often enough.

That being said, if you have the opportunity to make it north in the next few weeks, the aspens will be waiting to entertain you. Together with the wind, they will be an alternative to the Book of Mormon and a welcomed break from political conventions this fall. 

Work Hard, Play Harder

Between working two jobs and having two social lives, I found myself working hard and playing harder in D.C. There is no other way to describe it. The harder I worked, the harder I played. As I spend my days reading, swimming, and applying to jobs back in Brea, California I recognize a trend in my life. I go with the momentum of my surroundings. As mentioned in my previous post "From West to East", with energetic surroundings, my energy will stay afloat and I spin out of control. I recognized this adjustment coming back from living a few months in a foster care home in Spain, moving back into the scholastic and collegial lifestyle at Berkeley. I was inclined to take it easy and keep things simple, organized, and fun. Fall 2011 semester, I received my best marks and, more importantly, absorbed and learned the most out of any other semester at Berkeley. With four classes, a couple soccer teams, and limited working hours, I was focused and clear-headed. By Spring 2012, my last semester at Berkeley, I had sunk back into the worker-bee, do-it-all attitude from my surroundings. Taking 21 units, I did do it all. That being said, I dabbled in many things rather than absorbing all the material.

All I am trying to say is this past year has been a lesson in surrounding influences and how deeply they influence my motivations. For now, I will take my time to sip coffee and read the morning paper in Brea, California. 

From West to East

When I was concluding my study-abroad experience in Spain, I remember feeling I had visited more places in Europe than in the United States. It felt shameful that I had been to Rome, Paris, Madrid, Berlin, Athens, and even Istanbul before visiting New York City. I know, I sound like I am complaining but this motivated my post-graduation move to D.C. This past summer I was able to study, or rather intern, abroad in my own country, as the East Coast proves to be quite different than the West. I didn't get to the East Coast shore, so I can't comment on the difference of swells between the Atlantic and Pacific. I refer to the East Coast attitude. More specifically, I saw the D.C. work force to be the strongest workaholics I have seen, all to get ahead. In comparison to los Madrileños on siesta or the Berkeleyans at a coffee shop, these D.C. people prefer the happy hour, after too many hours of work. With the amount of young professionals around looking for their next move, for their next great opportunity, D.C. has a culture of networking, seeping into the happy hour conversation.

I may come off cynical, but I mean to sound in awe. It is an attitude I haven't experienced before. I didn't think about it much until I left D.C. I should have known though. After finding all the regional differences within Spain, just larger than California, of course D.C. would be very different. After four years of Bay Area education, concluding Northern California and Southern California are essentially different states, of course D.C. would be different. And yet, I am amazed over and over again by the sharp influence my surroundings had on me. How much they permeate my actions and cause a mind shift without even realizing it. Who needs a lunch break anyway?

Plane taking off from Reagan airport over Potomoc River

My time in D.C. was not only a movement West to East, but North to South as well. At my part-time hostessing gig, I found a community to learn some new Spanish dialects including Honduran, Salvadorian, Mexican, and Peruvian. Within my country, I learned more about Honduras than ever before. In fact, a co-worker and friend, Ever Aguirre Bonilla, taught me all there is to know about Honduras, with an emphasis on fútbol and politics. Needless to say, D.C. was an all-en(compass)ing experience.

One thing to consider before visiting the Capital, you will get to do a lot of free things. This makes a recent college graduate extremely happy. Especially the plethora of options for outdoor movies on any given summer night. I guess what I am getting at is, D.C., although I was exhausted after the summer, I kind of miss you in retrospect.